A Tragedy of Childhood
by luvduv2
Summary: A modern day mixture of Romeo and Juliet and Wedekind's original Spring Awakening. Characters are mixed as well. Suicide letter style. I don't own Spring Awakening or Romeo and Juliet.


It has been one year. One year of pain. One year of sorrow. One year of waiting for the death that feels like it will never come. I still can't forget her smile. Her green eyes. The way she laughed. The curious way her eyebrows moved up when she was interested in something. It's not her fault, why I'm doing this. People still blame her for ending a series of entertaining fights. So, this suicide letter is not, as some people may think, a statement to those who refused to let us be together, but more, a release for myself. I am not punishing my parents, my friends, or anyone else by doing this. This is my choice and my choice alone. By the time you read this letter, I will have taken ten doses of Advil, so you might as well know the story, because I won't be here to take the blame.

It never really started. Since I can remember, our families have been fighting in the streets simply to entertain the people watching. While we mainly fought with our fists, sometimes things got out of hand. Someone, usually Ty Capulet, would take a pocket knife, or even a gun to a street fight, and that's where things got really interesting. Nobody had died yet, but I had seen people get carried off in stretchers, bleeding their guts out. It was truly an atrocious sight. Ty Capulet really had it out for me and my buddy, Max, for some reason. I think it's because I accidentally broke his nose in the third grade and Max laughed or something. It didn't matter. I was always out of Ty's grasp because of my refusal to fight. It always seemed stupid to me. Even when I was, like, ten, I never understood why people enjoyed getting the crap beaten out of them in front of everyone. Even though it annoyed me, I suppose it helped me in the long run. Early on I decided that I would break the mold, that I would stop the fighting when I was old enough. Being the only child in the Montague family, it's kind of like, my job to keep the fighting going. Obviously, I would end it. Try and get my cousins and Max to stop picking fights with the muscle heads.

Actually, that's all I used to think the Capulets were. Muscle heads. They never seemed to be thinking anything that didn't have to do with hurting someone in my family. It was just a natural thought, though. I had been told it so many times in my own home that I actually began to believe it. My opinions changed a bit last January, though.

Max and I were on our way to school, where we were both sophomores. Every day, we passed the Capulet house, but this time was different. Max always walked a little bit in front of me for some reason, I don't know why. I usually stopped to people watch or something. Today, though, he stopped dead in his tracks in front of the mansion of the supposed enemy. At first, I thought he was throwing rocks at the house again, until Mr. Capulet came out and chased us away. This time, though, he just stared up at the second floor, his mouth somewhat open. I caught up with him to see what he was looking at, and I'm pretty sure my face looked the same as well.

She was staring out of her window, looking somewhat sad. I couldn't see much of what she was wearing, but I knew it was something her mother, Mrs. Capulet, a strict woman who worked at the local church, would not approve of. And as we watched, I realized that my prediction was correct. Her mother rushed in, glaring at the outfit like it was some sort of Satan spawn or something. The Capulet girl eventually grimaced and put a sweatshirt on over her outfit. I heard Max sigh a little out of disappointment. Realizing the show was over, he began walking away. I couldn't. Something glued me to the house. For some reason, staring up at this girl was the only thing I wanted to do. Still, I had to get to school.

We walked in silence for most of the way to school. Eventually, Max broke it.

"Ray?' He asked quietly, as if hoping that even I didn't hear him.

"Yeah?"

"Have you had any….different dreams lately? Like about girls?"

I laughed. Of course I had. We _were teenagers. I looked at Max's face. He wasn't kidding around. He really didn't know what to do about this. _


End file.
